


Incentive

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Injured Hux, Injury, Kissing, M/M, hurt comfort, pre tfa, relationship musing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6855688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hux is injured on a ground mission, Kylo Ren makes it his priority to make sure the Supreme Leader's top General is well taken care of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incentive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artstoryal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artstoryal/gifts).



> Written for artstoryal who had a rough day, and wanted some Kylux hurt/comfort fic.
> 
> Just a little drabble.

He was hurt. Hux. Hux was hurt.

It was like a beacon, flashing glaring and bright-white across the Universe, tearing through Ren’s vision. Hux never got involved in ground altercations. Ever. He never set foot off ship unless it was necessary. So it must have been. But why hadn’t Ren been made aware of it?

Why had Hux kept it secret?

He fought back the urge to set fire with his mind to every known world until Hux was back on the _Finalizer_ , in his possession, where he could lord over those in the medbay and make sure he was being taken care of and put back together properly because Ren would not stand for anything less.

The havoc he wreaked with his sabre would seem like child’s play in the face of what he would do if anything happened to the General.

No one knew. 

Of course no one knew. 

It had been an agreement between them because it would complicate things. 

But now Ren was on the verge of taking command of the ship on his own and tearing through space to find him unless someone gave him some answers. All he had now was the vague echo of Hux losing blood, groaning in pain, and silently wishing that Ren was there.

That was like someone had reached into the cavity of his chest where his human heart still remained, and ripped it out. Still beating. Dripping red. Squeezing it with every moan Hux gave wherever he was.

“I want a status update on the General now.” His voice sounded far too mild, not betraying his panic thanks to his voice modulator.

The Lieutenant gave Ren wide berth and a cautious look as he pulled up a status report. “In transit, Lord Ren.”

Ren’s jaw was impossibly tight under his mask, and it suddenly felt far more claustrophobic than it ever had. He fought back the very real urge to rip it off and then put his hands round the throat of this incompetent man and take his rage out through murder.

But that would do no one any good at all.

Instead he paced and waited, and watched and _felt_ as the ship drew near.

And by whatever Gods might still be listening, Hux had better be in stable condition upon arrival. If not completely healed.

Tech was far too advanced for that to be an unreasonable request.

It felt like an eternity passed before Hux’s ship arrived, and abandoning all pretences, he was stood by whilst they were taking Hux on a stretcher. He followed them, hands behind his back, boots clunking along the ship’s corridor, his cloak billowing. No one dared to say a word, though he could feel their confusion.

For all they knew, these two hated each other.

“Supreme Leader will have your heads if he’s not up and walking within the hour,” he barked when they were running scans.

“He’s stable, Lord Ren,” one of them said. 

Ren turned his mask toward her, feeling the inside humid with his warm breath because he was breathing too fast, too heavy. “And…?”

“He sustained several internal injuries which are already being repaired. The most he can do is rest and allow them to heal. We’ve already administered what he needs to repair.”

“Then send him to my quarters.”

There was a collective confusion, but again, his orders were not to be disobeyed. When there was hesitation, he lifted a gloved hand and curled it in the air.

“Do you think the Supreme Leader trusts anyone to his care but me?”

Deep down Ren didn’t think Snoke gave two flying Jawa shits what happened to Hux. He was convenient, and far too smart for his own good, but expendable. They all were. And it worked in his favour as Snoke didn’t seem to care what Ren got up to with the General.

Perhaps one day he would be punished for his weakness when it came to the leader of the _Finalizer_ , but today was not that day.

He gave command over to Mitaka for the time being, then shut himself in the room. Moments after Hux was on the bed, attached to his monitors, Ren divested himself of everything aside from his trousers. His hair fell sticky and sweaty along the back of his neck.

He wanted nothing more than to run his bare hand over Hux’s flesh. To confirm he was alive. He was real. He was there.

There was nothing stopping him now. He started with the tips of his fingers, pushed lightly against Hux’s pulse point. It was strong, slow, at rest. He let himself feel it, he let his own pulse sync, before moving on. His hand dragged along Hux’s jawline, fingers tracing his lips. In his unconscious state, Hux let out a small puff of air, brushing it along Ren’s skin.

A breath of life.

Proof.

Ren swallowed and ignored the all-too human feeling burning hot behind his ribs that made him want to lean down and push his lips to Hux’s full ones. He should not want to do these things, he was constantly reminded.

And yet.

His hand drifted up, over a sharp cheekbone, pressing lightly to his temple. He closed his eyes, letting the Force gently probe, never enough to hurt. Hux rarely shut him out these days, and he could see now the healing. Hux was still in pain, but not an overwhelming amount. The injections he’d been given in medbay were doing their job.

Ren closed his eyes and pushed his nose up against the soft, ginger hair. He’d once thought it would be stiff, always in place, tucked up under his hat. But it was surprisingly easy to run his fingers through, to muss up and make Hux give that little frown Ren found so…

Endearing.

Damn him.

He breathed in his scent. It was stale, it was too much like the ship. Ren preferred when Hux was straight from the Refresher. It never lasted long, the smell of him being human. Being something other than The General. But it belonged to Ren solely. No one experienced Hux like that except him.

They’d been doing this long enough that Ren had no problem laying claim to so many of these things.

Like the beauty mark Hux had just under his left nipple no one had ever seen before. Or the scar just under his left knee he’d gotten as a kid. Ren saw it in a dream—nothing he’d meant to see, Hux had been vulnerable just after a particularly intense orgasm and was drifting.

Ren had been pulled in. He’d seen six year old Hux going after a snapping turtle in a small pond just outside the home he’d grown up in. His mother had shouted at him to stop, that he’d get hurt. He fell and sliced his skin nearly to the bone.

It was one of the last times Hux had ever cried.

When Ren woke from the dream, he lowered himself down and kissed it. Hux’s hands had gone into his hair, and for a moment Ren thought they would tighten, shove him away, or pull too hard to show that he would not allow displays of affection like that.

Instead they’d brushed through Ren’s curls, urged him back up, and Hux tucked his face against Ren’s neck as he fell back to sleep.

That was the breaking point, Ren knew. Though they never spoke of it.

He drifted his hands now lower, to Hux’s ribs. To his organs which were mending and repairing. The Force could do little for them, but all the same he probed to make sure he was knitting together right. He didn’t care what he’d have to do to keep Hux like this—safe and alive and his—as long as it was possible.

Some day he might die at the hands of Ben’s father. Or Ben’s mother.

Or the Republic.

Perhaps the Rebellion if they managed to track down Skywalker and find any other Force users.

Maybe Snoke would abandon him. Or order Hux to kill him. Ren hadn’t probed to find out whether or not Hux would obey those orders. He was too frightened to know.

But for now, this was his.

For now, they were together.

*** 

It was hours before Hux awoke, a small frown of annoyance creasing his brow. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and breathy. “I’m in your quarters?”

“You were injured,” Ren said. He’d not moved from his perch by the end of the bed, and had just come out of a meditation.

“Why am I not in medbay?”

“I don’t trust them,” Ren said simply.

Hux snorted, rolling his eyes, and attempted to shift onto his side but the pain was still too great. Ren stayed him with a firm hand, using just a little bit of the Force to push him back over. “Don’t. You still have several hours of healing to get through.”

Hux let out a huff, annoyed, but he obeyed, lifting one arm above his head. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll send a droid for something. Light. Soup, I think.”

Hux grimaced, but didn’t argue as Ren went to the communicator and ordered the things Hux would need to sustain himself. When he was done, he turned and stared until Hux shifted uncomfortably. “What the hell are you looking at?”

“Do you need to relieve yourself?”

Hux couldn’t help a small flush, and he shook his head. “Not presently. And I think I’ll manage that on my own.”

“You shouldn’t…”

“Ren, I might let you put your cock up my arse, but I will be damned if we cross that line.”

It was Ren’s turn to pink in his cheeks, and he turned to the door. The droid was faster than either of them expected, a tray in hand with a watery broth and tea. Ren knew the tea reminded Hux of his home-world. A dreary place where they lived in a state of constant mist and fog. It was nothing like the stale, cold air of space, and Hux appreciated the differences, but he missed a few things.

Ren took pride in knowing that as he brought the tray over to Hux, and set it down on the side of the bed. He tried—mostly failing—not to stare too hard as Hux eased himself up, then took half the soup down, and all of the tea.

When he was done, Ren lifted the tray with the Force, sending it to the desk, and Hux snorted again. “Show-off.”

Ren turned back to him, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a slight smile. “It impresses you.”

“Shut up.”

Ren’s smile got bigger, and he used his hands this time, to ease Hux back into a lying position. When the redhead was there, he carefully brought his still-bare hands up, and began to knead the muscles along his shoulders, arms, his pectorals.

Hux let out an involuntary groan before shoving Ren’s hands away. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you,” Ren said, though the idea itself, and the words, felt like a foreign language on his tongue. “It wouldn’t do for Snoke’s top General to succumb to his injuries.”

“The Supreme Leader doesn’t care if I live or die,” Hux said dryly.

Ren sighed, wanting to argue for the sake of arguing. Instead he shifted forward, leant his head down, and captured Hux in a soft, slow, lingering kiss. It was just deep enough, just needy enough, that one of Hux’s hands came up to clasp at the back of Ren’s neck.

“Perhaps,” Ren muttered against Hux’s lips after finding the courage to pull away—only slightly. “Perhaps so. But I do.”

Hux snorted a laugh right into Ren’s skin. “Do you now? Is that what all this is about?”

“Next time,” Ren said, now reaching up to twist his fingers into Hux’s hair—not painful, but almost. “Next time, you tell me. I’ll accompany you. You won’t suffer this same fate. Anyone who dares to even look at you sideways will die by my hand.”

“By your magic,” Hux corrected, his hot breath brushing across Ren’s cheeks.

“It isn’t magic. You always fail to understand,” Ren said.

Hux laughed and kissed him again. “And you fail to see that I don’t give a fuck. When will I be well enough for you.”

Ren finally pulled all the way back, unable to stop himself now from cupping Hux’s cheek. “Not as soon as you like, but sooner than you think. The less you move, the faster you’ll get better.”

Hux’s hand roamed over Ren’s thigh, curling round a hip, touching his arse cheek. “Incentive, I suppose.”

Ren smirked just a little, then shifted him over to lie beside him. He pressed a kiss to the side of Hux’s neck, and when he felt the General succumbing to the medications, he whispered quietly just under his ear, “Incentive, indeed.”


End file.
